Sparkles
by Thalanee
Summary: Or: Why An Icy Welcome Is Not Necessarily A Bad Thing. It wasn't quite the way Jazz had imagined his reunion with Prowl to be, but he wasn't going to complain either...


Sparkles

Or: Why An Icy Welcome Is Not Necessarily A Bad Thing

Author: Thalanee

Verse: Movie (Jazz did NOT die!)

Word Count: ca. 2700 words

Rating: PG

Characters: Jazz, Prowl, Optimus, Sunstreaker, Ratchet, Bluestreak, Smokescreen

Warnings: JazzxProwl kissing, implied SunstreakerxBluestreak, Jazz's mangled speech pattern, crack, absolute crack…,

Disclaimer: I don't own them, Hasbro does.

Summary: It wasn't quite the way he had imagined their reunion to go, but Jazz wasn't going to complain. Not with the way his sparkmate… if you want to know just what Prowl did, read and find out.

I blame a plotbunny by kirin-saga on the tf-bunnyfarm (.#cutid1 ), it jumped me when I wasn't looking, and the song Arrival To Earth from the Transformers Movie Soundtrack. The nickname "Sparkles" is taralynden's brainchild and used with her permission.

Author's Note: I'm not Russian myself, so I might have gotten some parts about the climate or the geographical details wrong. The Russian pieces are from an online translator.

A triad is the Praxian equivalent to a Vosnian trine. Yes, my Datsuns are a trine.

XXXXX

Primus it was cold.

The icy air seemed to crawl over his plating in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. Every time he shifted his silver armor to protect one spot from the biting wind, another was exposed. Technically it wasn't cold enough for him to be damaged to by the weather. Ratchet had said so many times since their arrival (the saboteur suspected the medic was trying to distract himself, since he looked just about as enthusiastic about this as he himself was), but that was little comfort to the mech known as Jazz.

Prior to landing here, he wouldn't have thought it possible, but this place seemed colder right now than even space or the Arctic (not that he'd been there long). And it wasn't even winter right now. This was supposed to be spring!

"What passes for spring here, anyway." the Solstice muttered to himself. "Remind meh again, why we're here, bossbot?" He turned to the massive blue and red mech walking behind him, showing no signs of discomfort.

"Patience, Jazz," the Prime answered, "all will be revealed in due time." There was a faint hint of amusement in his rumbling voice. Optimus was hiding something, yet he had no way of knowing what, only that the Autobot leader was immensely pleased about something.

"Whatever it is, why this place?" the silver mech continued, the cold was making the welds across his torso itch in the most irritating way, so for once he decided to vent. "Ah mean, seriously, the Russian taiga? There ain't nothing but trees an' lakes, apart from the highway. As much as Ah appreciate Earth's scenery, there better be good reason for this field trip."

Optimus endured his First Lieutenant's uncharacteristic snarking with grace, after all he knew what truly weighed on the mech's processor. Which was why he was even more glad about the communiqué he had received a couple of days earlier and in a rare fit of mischief had decided to surprise everyone. He just couldn't wait to see his mechs' faces.

Behind him an even grumpier Lamborghini trudged along sullenly in equally uncharacteristic silence. No grumbling about dirt on his shining golden plating, no complaints about pollen and dust clogging up his intakes, no curses concerning the filth, not even a single grunt issued forth from the frontliner. Sunstreaker was sulking.

"It's not far now, we should be there in a couple of minutes." The medic's voice disrupted every bots musings. They drudged on in the direction indicated by Ratchet, always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary since Prime had not seen fit to tell them why they were here. Soon they arrived at the coordinates they had been given.

In front of them lying hidden in a dense bank of fog was a huge circle of fallen or cracked trees, some of which showed distinct scorch marks, and in the middle, not far apart from each other, were three craters. The crash site was relatively recent, but not so new that the trees were still smoking.

Ratchet bent down to examine what was obviously (to them at least) a landing site, while the saboteur and frontliner both had their weapons drawn and sensors at the highest setting on the lookout for any Decepticons who might decide to show their faceplates. Both of them grumbled as they realized their sensors weren't working. Something was disrupting them.

"Careful, there might be Cons around," Jazz cautioned. "Might even be Soundwave, he could jam our sensors and Comms."

Yet both Optimus and Ratchet seemed curiously unperturbed considering the circumstances. The Solstice frowned to himself, wishing Prime would just tell them what was going on. Was it his imagination or did Optimus look amused?

Yet he did not follow that thought any further, because something else had drawn his attention. There was the strangest feeling in his spark. He now realized that it had been there for a few weeks already, steadily growing stronger, but he hadn't paid any attention to it, as it had been barely there, a feeling so faint he'd thought it had been his imagination. But now he recognized it for what it was: a tug on his spark. A familiar one…

While Jazz was caught up in his own world, Sunstreaker had no compunctions about voicing his displeasure. "Will you just tell us why you dragged us here, _sir_? And why aren't you worried about the Cons?"

Optimus just looked at him strangely. "Trust me, young warrior, there are no Decepticons here. The opposite in fact." With that cryptic remark he turned his attention to the chartreuse mech who had made his way to one of the craters and proceeded to investigate them.

"These aren't more than a day old, six to ten hours I'd say." He turned to the other Autobots. "Whoever landed here is probably still in the vicinity."

"You bet we are," a familiar voice called from somewhere to the side. That familiar voice spoke with a strange accent.

They all snapped their heads around to look at the mech who had spoken. The winged frame stepped out of a denser piece of fog, revealing its blue colour and the red racing stripes adorning the mech's chassis. Rocket launchers on his shoulders made him look even bigger than he was. The golden optics glowed from under an equally golden chevron.

"Smokescreen, wait for me!" The lighter voice made Sunstreaker stiffen in surprise. His optics were glued to the second mech to emerge from the fog. The grey chassis and crimson chevron were exactly like he remembered, and the mech's wings looked even more beautiful than before.

Without hesitation he ran toward the figure and scooped a laughing Bluestreak up in his arms, while all the others just watched the happy reunion.

All but one.

"Smokey, Blue," he addressed them. Both turned to look at him, then recoiled. As far as they knew Jazz was supposed to be dead.

"Jazz," the blue Praxian greeted him with a heavy Russian accent. "It is good to see you alive, even though I have no idea how zis happened." There was a faint menacing undertone in his voice that at the following words. "Iv you ever scare my triadmate like zat again, I will make Megatron look like a sparkling in comparison, understood?"

Jazz nodded meekly. "Where is he?" No need to clarify, everyone here knew who he was talking about.

Smokescreen pointed to his right. "Why do you not try that direction, Jazz."

"Thanks, man." The saboteur saluted the diversionary tactician before running off into the direction Smokescreen had indicated. That was what his spark had been trying to tell him the whole time. His Prowler was coming to Earth. He was here now!

"Jazz!" Bluestreak's voice rang after him. The Solstice turned to look at the Praxian whose face looked uncharacteristically earnest. "Good luck."

Jazz smiled back at the youngest in gratitude before he turned again and ran to look for Prowl. The last thing he heard before he was out of range was Ratchet's "What's with the Russian accent?"

XXXXX

Prowl sighed heavily.

Finally he was on Earth, but that didn't mean much to him knowing that his Jazz was dead. When he had felt their bond break back on Cybertron, he had broken down, screaming, crying, calling out for Jazz. He hadn't registered Blue and Smokey drawing him into their embrace, had ignored them calling for him. Desperately reaching for a connection that was no longer there he hadn't even registered First Aid sedating him.

Even in stasis he had been haunted by the black hole that was where the bond to Jazz should have been. Once out of stasis he had been catatonic. Only when he had been told about Prime's message he had come out of his depression enough to immediately follow it to the coordinates it originated from. He had to _see_. Luckily for him, Bluestreak and Smokescreen noticed and immediately followed him, because Prowl hadn't bothered taking supplies or weapons with him. Without his triad he wouldn't have made it here.

Currently he was standing in the middle of a little clearing in the taiga, a long way north of a city the humans called Novosibirsk, and trying to ignore the feeling in his spark that brought him so much pain. It felt like the bond with Jazz, but it couldn't be. Jazz was dead, torn in two by Megatron, and yet his spark tortured him with this feeling that was growing stronger in his spark with every day. It was killing him.

But he couldn't die yet. He would see the war through to its end, after all he and Jazz had made a promise to each other, that even if one of them should die, the other would hold on instead of following to the Well of All Sparks.

A sad smile crossed his face as he slowly started to go back to their landing site. His bonded would have loved this planet. Its inhabitants, though primitive in some ways, were also ingenious and the variety of languages, arts, music and philosophies was truly remarkable. It had given him something to focus on in the last hours.

A small crunch caught his attention, then another. It was a small cracking sound. Prowl looked around. There was no one else around, but small organic life forms in the trees around the area he was standing on. Belatedly he realized there was no vegetation in this area too.

The cracking was louder now and it sounded from… beneath his pedes.

Then the ice cover of the frozen lake he stood on finally gave way.

Icy cold surrounded him for a moment, before he stood up and fought his way through the already ruptured ice sheet. Luckily for him the lake wasn't particularly deep where he had been standing, so he had no trouble making his way toward a point where he was only hip deep in the water.

Primus, he was cold. The water ran down his frame in rivulets, but soon he noticed that the rest froze to his frame. Not very thick or in dangerous places, just the outer layer of his armour, which Prowl was inordinately grateful for. Cursing to himself he struggled on toward the snow-covered beach.

XXXXX

Meanwhile Jazz was standing transfixed under the canopy of some of the large trees beside the small lake. Mesmerized he could do nothing but gape at the sight in front of him.

There was his Prowler, slowly rising out of the water that clung to his frame in a way that made Jazz itch to replace it with his servos. The silver mech's visor was trained onto the way the new armor wrapped around his protoform, all pearly white and glossy black with the little highlights in red and gold on his frame, the crimson chevron with the golden crest that drew one's gaze to the exotic faceplates of the Autobot Second In Command and his amber optics. Those regal, gorgeous wings twitched as they always did when his Prowler was annoyed.

What caught his attention though was the way Prowl's slender form seemed to sparkle in the sunlight like some ethereal creature from another world…

"Шлак!1" Jazz couldn't help but grin. The tactician clearly hadn't noticed that he was not alone anymore for him to curse like that, though the saboteur had fond memories of the time when Prowl had become comfortable enough around him to give voice to his feelings. "Проклятие этой адской погоде!2" It really made Jazz want to squeal, Prowl was so cute when he was annoyed… not that he ever told him that.

Finally, when Prowl had reached the beach and was slowly turning this way and that, so the curves of his chassis sparkled in the most alluring way, Jazz simply couldn't resist anymore. "Hello there, Sparkles." He purred, stepping out of the shadows.

Prowl turned around so fast, he almost fell. Coming face to face with Jazz he froze and stared. For a moment he was sure he had lost his mind, but there Jazz was, hands on his hips, wearing a wide Cheshire grin and azure visor glowing brightly. When his Battle Computer insisted that this couldn't be real he shoved it aside without a second thought. He realized now what his spark had instinctively known all this time: Jazz was alive.

Ever so slowly he stepped closer to Jazz, shivering white servos hesitantly reaching for the oh so familiar faceplates of the saboteur. The touches were feathery light at first, Prowl fearing that the mech in front of him was just a specter that would vanish if touched, but when his servos encountered the soft metal of Jazz' s faceplates he surged forward, wrapping himself around his bondmate, clinging to him, as if his life depended on it.

Jazz in turn gently held the smaller mech close, their sparks singing in unbridled joy where their chestplates touched, currents of warmth and love rippling through them. Tenderly he stroked quivering doorwings to sooth the mech in his arms, who unconsciously sent an endless litany over the reawakened bond between the two of them of _Iloveyoumissedyoudon'tleavemeloveyouneedyoudon'tleaveme_. Whispering promises and words of love he managed to calm his lover down enough so he wouldn't crash and finally had the chance to look into Prowl's optics.

"I promise I won't leave ya again," he kissed the golden crest of Prowl's chevron, "I promise neva ta hurt ya like that again," he kissed away the tears on Prowl's cheeks, "I love ya, Sparkles." He softly kissed Prowl on the lips, until the black and white melted in his arms with a soft sigh.

When they stopped for air again, Prowl looked up at Jazz with that adorable confused expression on his face. "Sparkles?" Absently Jazz noted that Prowl spoke with a Russian accent, too, not as thick as Smokescreen had, but still noticeably. Somehow it fit him perfectly.

"Yep, 's ma new nickname for ya. Hope ya like, cuz it's here ta stay." Grinning, Jazz pointedly looked at some patches of Prowl's armour that still glittered in the sunlight, covered in frost. The tactician followed his gaze and sighed fondly.

"You are incorrigible," a small smile appeared on his face, "but I would not have you any ozer way. And yes, I like it, because you gave it to me." Prowl snuggled closer, his arms tightening around his bonded, needing the physical reminder of Jazz's presence.

The Solstice laughed. "Do ya even realize how corny that sounded, Sparkles?" Fondly he nuzzled the red chevron so conveniently within range. "Ya're gonna ruin yar reputation if word gets out." The familiar teasing came so naturally, as if they had never been separated at all.

"I know, but I also know my secret is safe wiz you." Then he switched over to their bond. 'I love you, Jazz.'

'I love ya too, Sparkles'. They stayed like they were, arms around each other, helm to helm for a long time, before Jazz reluctantly drew away. "We'd better get back, before the docbot decides ta come lookin' for us."

Prowl winced, yet his doorwings fluttered in amusement. "You are right, of course. We would not want a repeat of ze last time he had to come looking for us." Holding each other's hands, they slowly started to walk back to the triad's landing place.

On the way, an errand thought crossed Jazz's processor and it wouldn't let him rest.

"What's with tha Russian accent?"

The End

Ann.: I hope I managed to bring the Russian accent across, couldn't think of better ways to do it.

Translations:

1: Slag!

2: Curse this infernal weather!


End file.
